


Beginnings and LANdings

by werit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Meteorstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-13 05:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werit/pseuds/werit
Summary: "The Internet has become both a boon and a curse for teenagers."- J. K. Rowling





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is DAVE. It is a RIDICULOUSLY NEUTRAL day. You will not specify which day it is because let’s be honest does it really fucking matter now that the Earth has kicked the bucket. The blinds are firmly closed over the VIEWPORT in your ROOM. Your room is kept a ridiculously neutral temperature through the elaborate system of VENTS that an ALIEN CLOWN may or may not be lurking in.

Now that you seem to be done CAPITALIZING SHIT AT RANDOM, you can finally make some shit take place. You drop your phone, ignoring the ongoing game of Tetris, and hunch over your laptop. Then, you plug in a mixing board, and mess with samples until your eyes are redder than… well than they usually are.

A year and a half ago, before the game, you would have flipped your shit if you knew you’d be a god, living on a meteor hurtling at lightspeed through the cosmos. Or whatever the fuck the Furthest Ring is classified as. You’re hella glad to say that the whispers of distant horrorterrors don’t even touch you anymore. Nope. They don’t. Okay, so maybe eldritch horrors still creep you out a little, that’s understandable, right? Can’t a guy have some fucking weaknesses? Like, Cthulhu's your kryptonite, that shit makes sense. You can’t help your jimmies getting rustled when a fuckgantic hentai tentacle monster pops up outside. Most of the time you avoid the windows, which puts you straight into the way of the people.

God, is there a less ideal group to be stuck on a meteor with? On one hand, you’ve got the people who’ve isolated themselves. On the other hand, you’ve got the people who clump up obnoxiously in all the public spaces. Seriously, get a room. And on the other hand, you’ve got the people who seemingly won’t get out of your way. Shit, was that three hands? Whatever, you’re rolling with this metaphor like Tony Hawk’s skateboard up and over a rail for a hundred-fifty point combo. The point is, you tend to outright avoid physical interaction. Which is why you’re currently glued to your phone, simultaneously mixing an ill beat on your laptop.

Jesus fuck you are tired.

Alright, what are the pros and cons of getting some shut-eye? Advantage numeros uno and dos: it’s fucking sleep and it’ll feel good. Warning: side effects include absolutely nothing, it’s a basic bodily function why the fuck are you even making a pro-con list. Ding ding ding, the winner is sleep.

You shut your laptop and half-assedly tumble into the giant pillow on your floor. Apparently making a mattress through punchcard alchemy is fucking difficult, and you’re not gonna ask Rose because that would kinda defeat the whole point of being able to relax, but you saw that she had a mattress in her room and holy shit you’re falling asleep just go with it.

 

You wake up. Apparently, if you’re tired enough, you can just skip the hassle of interacting with ghosts in the afterlife or whatever the fuck that red troll (Arabia?) explained before fucking off to the middle of nowhere. Dream bubbles, that’s it. Or maybe you just got lucky. Either way, you have been returned to the waking world once more, free to do fuck-all for another two years, eleven months, six days, twelve hours, forty-one minutes, and three seconds. Goddamn do you _love_ being a living clock, it really just sucks the joy out of everything.

You nab your iPhone from it’s designated location: your bedroom floor. The clock on the home screen is set to the wrong time. Now, you’re no tech genius, but if you’d had to guess you’d say that’s a problem. You open the date and time settings menu, and… see that nothing is wrong? Huh. The only odd thing is that the “Set Automatically” option is ticked. But that shouldn’t change anything, you…

Aren’t connected to wifi…

You have a much larger problem.

turntechGodhead [TG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board Meteor Str8gy 8oard.  
TG: alright yall ive got mission critical information for you  
TG: this shit is kinda creeping me out so im just gonna dump it on you before i start thinking of the implications  
arachnidsGrip [AG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
AG: Okay? Spit it out, there’s no need to beat around the bush.   
TG: jesus christ i was getting to that but ok  
TG: my phone just connected to a fucking wifi signal   
tentacleTherapist [TT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
carcinoGeneticist [CG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CG: I THINK I SPEAK FOR THIS ENTIRE COMMITTEE WHEN I SAY: WHAT THE FUCK, STRIDER.  
TT: Indeed you do. David, what the fuck?   
gallowsCalibrator [GC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
GC: W41T, 1S H1S FULL N4M3 4CTU4LLY D4V1D?  
TG: one thats not the point of this memo  
TG: and two no rose just does that shes a filthy liar  
TG: and to answer your inquiry karkat the fuck is that i woke up and my phone connected to some fucking dumbass wifi signal  
TG: it doesnt even have a name its called netgear-93010255   
TG: like some grandpa decided after ten years of visits from his grandkids that they finally needed internet in the house so they would stop bugging him but he didnt know how to set up the router  
TT: Weren’t you the person who just criticized Terezi for taking the memo on a tangent?  
TT: That’s downright hypocritical, Dave.  
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP, THAT IS IT.  
CG: AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR MORE MAGNANIMOUSLY AWFUL VOCAL RETCHINGS FROM THIS GROUP, I’M AFRAID I HAVE TO CUT YOU OFF.  
CG: AND YES, THAT STATEMENT FUCKING INCLUDES YOU, VRISKA. I CAN HEAR YOU TYPING IN THE HALLWAY.  
CG: STRIDER, YOU’RE THE KNIGHT OF TIME, RIGHT?   
TG: yep  
CG: AMAZING. A SHORT AND TO THE POINT ANSWER FROM DAVE STRIDER. NOBODY COULD HAVE PREDICTED THIS.   
CG: CAN YOU TELL IF WE ARE IN A DOOMED TIMELINE? IN MY EXPERIENCE, WEIRD SHIT HAPPENING IS THE EASIEST WAY TO TELL THAT YOUR BRANCH OF PARADOX SPACE HAS JUST BEEN FLUSHED DOWN THE LOAD GAPER.   
TG: well first off, there’s no need to be so rude i can type punctually when i want to  
TG: the mood just doesnt strike that often  
TG: its like lightning never strikes in the same place twice  
TG: actually no that makes no sense  
CG: AAAND THERE WE GO, BACK INTO THE CYCLE OF STUPIDITY.   
TG: okay geez  
TG: we’re not in a doomed timeline far as i can tell  
AG: Well, th8t’s f8cking re8ssuring!!!!!!!! Now we 8nly h8ve to d8termine wh8t the f8ck happened to Par8dox Sp8ce!!!!!!!!   
AG: This could t8r a h8le in our f8cking endgame plans!!!!!!!!  
TG: chill  
GC: HON3STLY, VR1SK4, 1’M NOT 3NT1R3LY SUR3 WHY YOU’R3 FR34K1NG OUT SO MUCH.  
AG: I am N8T fr8cking out!!!!!!!!  
GC: OK4Y, TH4T’S 1T.  
GC: *TH3 COURT H4S D3T3RM1N3D TH4T VR1SK4 S3RK3T SH4LL B3 R3MOV3D FROM 4CC3SS TO TH1S M3MO.*  
GC: H3Y WHY WON’T TROLL14N L3T M3 B4N H3R.  
TG: you’re not a mod also chill it with the banhammer  
GC: D4V1D STR1D3R, TH1S PR3C4UT1ON 1S TO B3 T4K3N 1N TH3 1NT3R3ST OF PUBL1C S4F3TY.   
AG: Do I get a f8cking say in this????????  
GC: NO.   
TG: no  
TG has banned AG from responding to memo.  
TG: alright i dont get why i thought any of yall would help me with this so peace  
TG has banned himself from responding to memo.  
TG has closed memo.


	2. Rose-Tinted Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your support, everyone!
> 
> I require it.
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed!

Your name is now ROSE. You have just been booted from a very peculiar memo, which seemed to create quite a lot of PROBLEMS. You have absolutely no qualms with this scenario. Day-to-day events on this godforsaken rock have been getting incredibly fucking boring, and you are excited to have this MYSTERY on your hands. You boot up your LAPTOP and prepare to extract valuable information from Dave. Your fingers hover over the keys, and...

A sharp knock comes from your door. You sigh, then get up, fully prepared to yell at whoever is inviting you to the weekly strategy meeting. (Who are you kidding, it’s always Vriska.) The door opens, and you are shocked to see none other than Dave Strider himself.

Well, face-to-face contact would definitely make the interrogation easier.

“David Strider,” you say authoritatively, “What the fuck is going on.”

“Damn,” he replies, “Even knowing this is coming didn’t protect me from the Lalonde creepy vibes. Did you put on makeup just to interview me for your psych journal?”

Okay, this is making zero kinds of sense.

“You knew what was coming?”

“The intense disapproval and thirst for knowledge that happens whenever I interact with you?” The reply is uncertain.

He’s definitely lying. If your intuition gave you a suspicion, your god-tier powers just lit up your “he’s lying” sense like wildfire. You prod a bit deeper with your (lighty thing? No, that’s terrible) aspect, then scowl at him. “You’re time traveling again.”

“Fuck.”

“Pardon my French, David,” you say, “But weren’t YOU the pathetic piece of shit that said that creating more time loops could lead to all of our motherfucking deaths?”

“It’s, uh. For... an important cause.” Dave’s reply is succinct, even if it is of doubtful authenticity. You decide not to pry into it. You really need a reason to trust him right now.

Oh. The mysterious WiFi connection.

“I really fucking need to show you something. Like, the urgency of this is so hella high that the damn sixties would be proud. That’s right, the entire decade has developed sentience, and…”

You decide to cut him off there. “Okay, I get it. What is it.”

“Like I said, sis, I gotta show you.” Really? He’s calling you sis now? Or, you think, maybe he’s from quite far into the future. “So uh, we gotta fuck off to Strider Time Travel Base Camp.”

 

You follow Dave through the many passageways of the meteor until you reach a large pair of double doors with windows papered over from the inside.

“This is where I drop you off,” Dave says, “Just, apologies in advance for what’s gonna go down, cuz that can’t be pleasant from either side.”

You frown, then shrug it off. “And you won’t be joining me because…”

“Cause I don’t remember myself going in. See, I’m totally on top of this stable loop shiz. Terezi would be fucking jealous that I replaced her with myself.”

You smirk. “With the subject of selfcest entering the conversation--”

“Shit, hey!”

“I think I’ll step inside.”

You push the double doors open to reveal no less than ten Daves glued to various computer screens. They’re wearing name tags.

“Dave #1” looks up from his laptop to you. “Oh, hey Rose,” he says exhaustedly, “I’m doing research.”

“Bullshit,” you say, grabbing his laptop, “You’re looking at memes. You used time travel to look at memes.”

“Hey!” Another Dave calls out from across the room, “This is important fucking cultural research. I have YEARS of memes to catch up on here. This shit is on so many fucking levels, you have no fucking clue.”

“We’ve been gone a fucking month!” you snap. This is ridiculous. Even with your (completely professional) obsession with internet culture, you would never dream of abusing your game-given powers to “catch up.”

“Nope.” Dave #1 smirks. “Check it. This is the internet from the distant-ass future. The year twenty-eighteen. Nine damn years of internet history for us to observe.”

“It’s a historical fucking landmine.” Dave #3 interrupts.

“So there’s a temporal gap in wherever you’re getting that signal from?” you ask, “Doesn’t that seem like investigating that would be a better usage of your powers? It is your aspect after all.”

Dave #10 rushes over to both of you, only to show you an [ image ](https://i.redd.it/hv1s5sgumhjz.jpg) that is possibly the worst thing you have seen since the destruction of your internet. Dave #1 pushes him away, then continues the conversation.

“Shit, I’d be totally doing that, but that signal is apparently under lock and key, more fucking secure than the Pentagon. Like whoever built that particular Netgear router was feeling a bit generous so they threw in the whole ‘immune to game powers’ package. Point is that as much as I’d like to crack the signal, all I can find out is that it’s def from a parallel universe, not an alternate timeline.”

What? Your expression prompts Dave to keep talking, which is probably not going to help.

“Yeah, shit went down in this universe totally off. The 1910 and 1972 meteor strikes never fucking happened, for one, and then obviously in 2009 planet Earth was never brutally shanked in an alley by a mob of meteors. But like, Obama was still a thing so it’s not too off.”

“Is there a parallel version of us in this universe?” You had to ask, if for naught else then to fulfill all the bad fanfiction tropes.

“Hell no, the meteors from John’s shitty baby-making science adventure never fucking hit. The odds of there being an alternate us in this universe are about equal to the odds of SBaHJ being a universal constant too.”

A timer goes off in one of Dave’s tabs, and the Dave time-clones disappear, probably to go finish their loops or fulfill some other temporal duty, leaving you alone with Dave #1.

“Shit,” he says, “Maybe SBaHJ does live on in this universe. Hold on, I’m gonna check.”

“Dave, no.”

“Bet you ten boonbonds.”

That is an absolutely ludicrous sum of money for Dave to bet on such a small chance. Then again, there’s nothing on the meteor that you can buy with boondollars anyway. “Fine. I’m in.”

He quickly closes the still-beeping alarm, then googles (when did Google get a new logo? It’s creeping you out.) “Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.” To your incredible surprise, two hundred and twenty five thousand results appear.

“What the fuck,” Dave whispers, “What the fuuuck.”

He proceeds to click on the first result. It links to the exact same god-awful website, but with a different url. The purple background is just as shitty as you remember. Dave won’t stop muttering profanities. You decide not to comment.

 

After both of you have read through each and every comic (torture to your poor eyes), you agree that yes, this is indeed the same webcomic drawn by the talent-lacking hand of Dave Strider. You are willing to bet that this is due to “circumstantial simultaneity,” as your informant so eloquently described. However, this explanation is too easy, and Paradox Space does not like easy answers.

“The fucking weirdest thing,” Dave whispers, “is that this isn’t even the domain that it was back before the game.”

“What?” You’re barely listening to Dave’s rambles at this point. Your brain power is better spent figuring out this enigma.

“Yeah, before the game, the site had its own goddamn url and everything. But in this one, its hosted on something called… home stuck dot com.”


	3. Stuck at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta reader Therockthatkilledcaesar! I couldn't have made this fic the same quality without you.

You’re pretty sure that Rose clocked out of this sweet investigation once you reached “COMIC  **28: spo** rts.” However, the new address is a lead that you can’t wait for her on. It’s just sitting there like a open outlet in front of you, and Rose is the irresponsible babysitter who cares more about her Instagram feed than making sure little Davey doesn’t electrify himself with a damn fork. That’s right, the baby is you and you are investigating the FUCK outta this URL.

You delete the subdirectory (that’s right, we’re getting technical up in this bitch) from the web address and hit enter on the keyboard. Your Hephaestus browser spins for a second, then drops you on a plain grey page with a green logo, announcing that yes, this is indeed the Home Stuck. Poorly drawn artwork graces the center of the page, but fuck that. You’ve seen enough shitty comics for one day.

You scroll down to the bottom of the page and check the copyright. Damn, who would have known that Homestuck owned homestuck.com? What you’re really curious about, however, is Viz Media. A quick Google search, however, reveals that Viz is a manga and anime company.

Is there a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff anime in this universe? You can only dream.

Back to the matter at hand, you return to the page. Your cursor hovers over a link labeled: “More About Homestuck” before clicking it. Oh, would you look at that, Rose has started paying attention to you again.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“So yeah turns out SBaHJ was piggybacking off a different URL in this universe.” You turn to face her. “This is the domain that it’s hosted on, I’m checking it out to see if it’s some fucking SBURB shit or whatev. Probably not though, just some dumb comic site that stole my idea from a different universe.”

“You should file for copyright infringement,” Rose says, “I’m no lawyer, but I’m sure Terezi would be happy to dabble in Earth law.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a fucking great idea. You let her into a courtroom and she ends up being the one charged. For unspeakable crimes to the jury. I watched her roleplay with those fucking plushies of hers, Rose, and let me fucking tell you it was goddamn TERRIFYING.”

With that conversation done, you swivel your ass until your head is once more oriented with your laptop screen. Finally, this damned  [ website ](https://www.homestuck.com/info-story) appears ready to give you some answers. What is Homestuck? What is Homestuck about? Why do these need to be two different questions? Whatever. You scan the page until one particular line of text catches your eye.

_ On his 13th birthday, John Egbert starts playing a mysterious videogame called Sburb. Unfortunately, this triggers the apocalypse. _

Oh.

“What?” Rose asks, and you have to take a minute before responding. Gotta keep your patent Strider cool on despite WHAT THE FUCK scenarios going on here.

“Read it.”

 

In the five minutes since opening this page, you have had not one but three existential crises, starring shitty scenarios such as “yo what if I’m not real,” “wtf are we living inside a simulation,” and “wait if this comic thing is loved by millions of people what does that mean they saw me do.” You are currently enjoying the last scenario, stuck reliving every embarrassing moment of your life and hoping it didn’t get caught on fucking Dave-Cam™ and broadcasted to the world. 

Rose, however, is currently dominating your computer. “Look at this,” she says, pointing to the screen, “It’s you.”

You look at the Google search she has open. Apparently, you are a three foot tall midget with entirely white skin, no arms, and a comically oversized pair of sunglasses.

All in all, not too far off.

“Gimme that.” You grab the laptop off her lap and type “Rose Lalonde” into the search bar. A fuckton of images show up, most of which are drawn in a similar style to your own flattering portrait. You quickly scroll down to the  [ most embarrassing image you can find ](http://i.imgur.com/1lMnaxj.png) and shove the laptop back towards her. 

“Rorb Lalorb.” She snorts. “This ‘Hussie’ person sure is a lazy artist.”

“Who?”

“Andrew Hussie is the writer and illustrator of Homestuck, the webcomic from another universe that we are all characters in, apparently.”

“Rose, how--”

“I must admit, the comic itself is very interesting, it--”

“ROSE! How the hell are you taking this so damn well?” You shout, breaking your poker face, “I’m supposed to be the cool and indifferent one but you’re acting like you’re just like made of fucking stone right now! I mean, we just found out we’re, like, not REAL maybe and probably at LEAST a bit fucked in the ass in terms of relevance, so why the jesus aren’t you flipping your shit?”

She pauses for a second, then starts talking again in a quiet tone. “Sorry, Dave. I didn’t realize--”

“How the fuck are you even okay right now?” The words silence her for a moment. When she talks again, it is slow and careful.

“I-- I’ve always been more accustomed to the idea of irrelevance than most. Hell, I read Lovecraftian horror, and the premise of those books is pretty much that humanity is but a shitty little speck in the universe. With everything that’s going on, I’m not sure that even OUR universe cares that much about our fate. I mean, we’re floating through an endless void populated by an infinite amount of ghosts and eldritch abominations. This just adds one more level of irrelevance to us.”

The conversation halts.

“My reasoning is,” her voice returns to a more cheerful tone, “We can’t simply change our fate. We’re probably irrelevant, but who cares as long as we’re having a good time?”

“I guess that makes sense,” you say.

“Alright. Are you ready to tell everyone else?”

“What.” That hadn’t even crossed your mind yet. Holy shit, the trolls are on the internet too, and this is gonna totally freak them the fuck out. You still aren’t entirely sure what the technology on Alternia was like, and if they had any equivalent to the human internet (god, saying that sounds so fucking weird). However, you saw them trying to insert what looked like a putrid maggot into the TV that you alchemized, so you don’t have high hopes.

“Dave?” Oh shit, Rose is trying to get your attention.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you blurt out, “this news needs immediate dispersal. We’re getting this shit out faster than Usain Bolt.” (You checked, he’s still the fastest man in the world.)

 

turntechGodhead [TG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board Meteor Str8gy 8oard.  
tentacleTherapist [TT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
TG: alright so remember that internet connection that i started a memo about like an hour ago  
arachnidsGrip [AG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
AG: How c8uld I forget?  
AG: You dumped mission-cr8ical info, b8nned me, and then left!!!!!!!!  
TT: Let’s make an effort to not repeat past events in this memo.  
TT: There is very important information that all of you should be here to receive.  
TG: yeah what she said  
TT: Eloquently put, David.  
TG: thx bb  
gallowsCalibrator [GC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
GC: WH1L3 1 DO 3NJOY W4TCH1NG VR1SK4 H3R3 FL1P H3R SH1T, 1 WOULD 4LSO V3RY MUCH L1KE TO KNOW TH1S MYST3RY 1NFORM4TION.  
GC: SO 1F W3 COULD K33P DR4M4 TO 4 M1N1MUM, TH3R3 W1LL B3 F4R F3W3R STR1K3S OF TH3 CH4TROOM-3XPLUS1ON G4V3L.  
TG: seconded  
TG has granted moderation privileges to  GC.  
TG: watch the chit-chat or the hammer is coming down  
GC: >:]  
TG: anyway where were we  
TT: Dave.  
TG: okay yeah i did that line just for the meme  
TG: so we did some investigating into this internet  
TG: and this shit turns out to be from a different universe  
TT: The internet of this alternate universe contains a very interesting webcomic. One that stars all of us.  
carcinoGeneticist [CG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
grimAuxiliatrix [GC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CG: JESUS BULGE-SPLITTING HELL. YOU HUMANS CAN’T GO A FUCKING **DAY** WITHOUT BREAKING INTO AN ALTERNATE FUCKING UNIVERSE AND ROBBING IT OF ALL JOY AND HOPE.  
TG: wow chill out mr drama queen  
TG: it’s just a little bump in the timeline so far i can tell nothing major like we’re not killing any time loops here  
CG: STRIDER, I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND.  
CG: YOUR VERY PRESENCE IN THIS ALTERNATE DIMENSION WILL UNDOUBTEDLY LEAD TO THE RUINANCE OF EXISTENCE AS WE KNOW IT.  
CG: I DIDN’T LEARN MUCH FROM MY TIME AS LEADER, BUT I DID LEARN THAT ALTERNATE REALITIES USUALLY LEAD TO DEATH.  
CG: IF YOU *STILL* NEED CONVINCING, TALK TO ARADIA. SHE’S OUT THERE IN ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CURSED-ASS “DREAM BUBBLES,” AND IS AN EXPERT ON ALL THINGS ALTERNATE REALITY AND DEATH.  
CG: SPOILER ALERT: THEY’RE THE SAME DAMN THING.  
GA: Um  
GA: I Seem To Have Missed The Context For This Particular Situation  
GA: If Somebody Could Brief Me On Exactly What Occurred In The Previous Memo That Would Be Much Appreciated  
TG: basically some shit went down with wifi  
TG: long story short my phone is connected to another fucking universe through an internet connection  
GA: And This  
GA: Quote Webcomic Unquote  
GA: Details Your Session Of Sgrub  
TG: yep and haha was your game really called that  
GA: Yours Wasn’t  
TG: hell no  
TG: theres no grubs in our good christian sburbs  
GC: >:?   
TT: Apparently, it is a meme from the future.  
TT: The internet signal in question apparently originates from the far-off year of 2018.  
GC: WH1CH W31RD, 4RB1TR4RY HUM4N Y34R W3R3 YOU ON 4G41N?  
GC: B3FOR3 YOUR PL4N3T W4S D3STROY3D, OBV1OUSLY.  
TG: damn if that isn’t the cheesiest sci-fi line ever  
TG: like “hey sup you abducted humans what year is it”  
TG: “uh yeah its 2009 are you gonna probe us”  
TG: “nah just letting you know your planet is fucking dead”  
CG: NONE OF US “ALIENS” HAVE ANY INTENTION OF STEPPING CLOSER THAN FIVE FEET TOWARDS YOU, YOU SLIMERIDDEN BULGESACK.   
CG: LET ALONE GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO DO WHATEVER “PROBING” ENTAILS.   
AG: Yeah, c8lm it with the casual r8cism!  
AG: Or at least, stop sending this memo into such a f8cking tangent that we FORG8T that WE ARE “WEBC8MIC CHAR8CTERS!!!!!!!!”  
TT: Indeed. This discovery has innumerable strategic advantages that I feel that we should definitely explore, if not exploit to our advantage.  
TT: For one, the author has finished the story. The story’s progression, for what I have read, is far beyond how we have chronologically progressed.  
TT: This could grant us unique insights into ensuring the stability of the timeline as well as defeating the final boss.  
AG: For the last time, Lalonde, I don’t fucking need help defeating Lord English.  
AG: I have ALL the luck. ALL of it!!!!!!!!  
TT: ...  
TT: You are a uniquely frustrating individual.  
AG: Thanks????????  
TG: damn  
TG: have i been dethroned as chief douche  
GC: 1 B3LI3V3 TH4T 1S WH4T JUST H4PP3N3D.  
CG: OH PLEASE. AS IF YOU WERE EVEN FUCKING CLOSE TO ENCROACHING ON VRISKA’S TERRITORY. HER EGO RIVALS THE SIZE OF THE GREEN SUN.   
CG: WHEREAS YOU, STRIDER, AT WORST ARE A TRIVIAL ANNOYANCE. YOU ARE NOWHERE NEAR VRISKA IN TERMS OF SHEER ASSHOLE ABILITY.  
TG: what  
TG: should i feel insulted or complimented  
GC: Y3S YOU SHOULD.  
CG: ***ANYWAY***, I THINK WE’RE LOSING SIGHT OF THIS FUCKING TOPIC AT HAND.   
GC: >:[  
CG: LOSING SMELL. WHATEVER.   
CG: MY POINT IS, WHY THE *FUCK* DID YOU CALL US HERE IF YOU DON’T YET HAVE A STRATEGY FOR EFFECTIVELY DEALING WITH THIS TIMELINE/UNIVERSE HOOFBEASTSHIT?   
TT: Thank you, Karkat, for so neatly arriving at my topic.   
CG: UGH.   
TT: I recommend that everyone connect to this internet signal and read the webcomic.  
TT: A team is only as strong as its weakest link, and we all need to understand the possible consequences of our actions, both on this meteor and when we arrive in the next session.  
GA: Are Husktops And Palmhusks Even Compatible With Human Internet Signals  
GA: I Do Not Claim To Be An Expert With Technology By Any Means  
GA: However It Would Not Seem That The Computing Devices Of Our Planets Would Have Such Interchangeable Technology  
TT: Indeed, that would be an issue in effectively dispersing game knowledge.  
TG: for everyone else who is jared, 19, never learned how to read  
TG: rose is saying “o shit u rite”  
TG: but yeah all yall trolls will probably have to use our inferior earth technology  
TG: that, yknow, isnt literally fucking alive  
TG: what do you guys even do if your laptop just pops out its shitty little legs all on its own and runs away  
GC: 1N TH4T S1TU4T1ON, TH3 TROLL TYP1C4LLY C4TCH3S TH3 HUSKTOP 4ND CULLS 1T B3FOR3 1T ST4RTS BR33D1NG.  
TG: fuck terezi  
TG: the last thing i needed to hear today was that your computers can fucking reproduce  
GC: H3H3H3H3H3H3  
GA: Such Are The Downsides Of Using Superior Organic Technology  
TT: Anyway, I will be posting captchalogue codes for various Earth computing devices in the alchemy room.  
TG: which one was that again  
TT: For fuck’s sake, Dave, the alchemy room is the one with the alchemy equipment in it.  
TG: oh yeah right i totally knew that  
TG: i was just  
TG: um  
TG: checking to see if you knew it  
CG: DESPITE THE MASSIVE THINKPAN DAMAGE I HAVE SUFFERED BY LISTENING TO THE SHIT THAT SPEWS FROM YOUR MOUTH, I AM STILL RENDERED UNABLE TO INTERPRET THIS FUCKING MESSAGE.   
CG: I HAVE NO DESIRE TO ATROPHY MYSELF ANY FURTHER. THEREFORE, I WILL INTERPRET YOUR MESSAGE AS MEANINGLESS AND/OR FULL OF SHIT.   
TG: all right im out of here  
TG: have fun mating with your laptops  
TT: I think that I will leave as well.  
TT: I want to do research into the plot of this story, and look for anything that might provide us with a tactical advantage.  
TG: rose we both know thats bullshit and that youre just gonna look up fanfiction  
TT: As I said.  
TT: Important tactical research.  
TT banned herself from responding to memo.  
TG banned himself from responding to memo.  
TG closed memo.  



	4. Dead and Too Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long wait, short chapter. Hopefully I'll be getting back into the rhythm of writing again, but who knows? Maybe I'll be like Sollux and Aradia and fuck off into the endless void uwu

Your name is KARKAT. You are currently reading the webcomic HOMESTUCK along with three other trolls on a PRIVATE MEMO, no humans fucking allowed. Or at least, you would be if you had not FALLEN ASLEEP. This is your first time visiting a DREAM BUBBLE, and you intend to stay awake for the entirety of the meteor trip in order to make it your last, as well.

The dream bubble that you are visiting has taken the appearances of a shitty jumble of your session’s planets. Right now, you’re standing on a kettle in a sugary fucking meadow, but you can spot multiple gigantic brains floating ominously in the distance. You can’t remember the entirety of Feferi’s explanation of the bubbles, but you remember that they’re linked to the ghosts that are inside them.

Oh fuck, you’re about to meet ghosts of your dead friends. Teammates. And you were their fucking leader, god, you hope that they’re from a different fucking timeline, for fuck’s sake you hope you won’t have to apologize for their deaths. Fuck, that’s…

“Hey! Is that you, car cat?”

You whip around, and see a ghost of fucking Egbert of all people in the distance. You flip him off. You think you can see him smile, then he starts sprinting towards you. Well, looks like you are going to have to deal with his bullshit for a while. As he gets closer, you can make out the Prospitian attire that he wears.

“Heyyyy! Oh shit! Karkat!” he shouts, jesus fuck there’s a reason that you’re the only one allowed to talk at that volume, “You’re the um. The alpha timeline Karkat aren’t you?”

“Yes. As evidenced by my completely present ganderbulbs, I am indeed fucking alive. If you would EXCUSE me, I would like to remain this way instead of being annoyed to death by you spouting bullshit.”

“Haha, yeah you’re definitely a Karkat and not a Kankri.” What the fuck does that mean. “Anyway, I have something to show you! There’s a guy in this bubble who’s looking for alphas! Alpha timeline people, not alpha trolls.”

What. What is an alpha troll?

“A guy?”

“Yeah! He’s a troll, one of you betas I think, I can’t remember his name. Not a Karkat though, I’d remember that. But I heard from Rose who heard from another John that he’s looking for players from the alpha timeline.”

You fix your eyes on him. “Explain, Egbert.”

He shifts under your gaze. “I just told you, dude! He’s a troll, looking for the players! Wants to tell them something I think but that’s just me. Rose is like, two hundred percent sure that he’s evil, but she’s kinda gone crazy, plus she’s helping him anyway so I’m not sure what that says about either of them.”

Okay, so there are five options of who this guy could be. You are really hoping that it’s a Tavros or an Equius (at least they won’t murder you). Is it worth it?

Hell yes it’s fucking worth it.

“Okay, fine. I will take the goddamn lurestock,” you say, “How the fuck do I get to him?” 

“Uh, I don’t really know. But Rose does, she talks to him all the time! Come on, she’s in this bubble, I bet she’s even--”

Suddenly, the landscape around you blurs and shifts. You’re now standing on the roof of a concrete house, perched above a cliff. For some goddamn reason, you can hear the sound of water rushing underneath the house. 

“Talking about me, dear Johnathan?” Rose’s voice calls from a lower staircase, “Looking for a certain someone?”

“God,” John complains, ‘When you say it that way, it sounds so creepy! I just need to talk to the alive troll who’s looking for other alive people!”

“Wow, you can’t even remember his name?” Rose monotones, “I’m pretty sure that’s VERY racist of you. But sure, I agree to guide you both to Sollux.”

Sollux?

  
  


You wake up. Stupid goddamned dream bubbles, you SWEAR they can detect context, and god forbid someone get answers on this fucking meteor. In the two perigees since the humans had discovered their internet, you’ve been relentlessly aggrieved with memes, pranks, and generally uncivilized behavior. If Sollux was still out there (John said he was alive?) you would love nothing more than to sit down with him and get into an endless bitch fit over coding or movies or whatever. 

Multiple honks come from the vent in the wall (nothing out of the usual, fucking clown), followed by a distant scream (definitely out of the fucking usual). You scramble out of your recuperacoon and equip your sickles, then walk backwards out of the door facing the vent. You keep backing up until the thought comes that  _ someone _ had to be the one screaming.

God fucking damn it, you’re too much of a coward to be a hero.


	5. 20/20

The Messiahs are mad at you.

You don’t know why. You motherfucking ALL UP AND MADE A RAINBOW for their bitchtits-blue stare and they FUCKING ABANDONED YOU. It’s all empty now, and you feel pretty motherfuckin’ betrayed.

So what you’ve fuckin figured up (in what little of your thinkpan you’ve got left, fuckin’ sopor) is that they gotta be mad at you. But that’s not motherfuckin adding up cuz you know they’re not mad at you because they  _ are _ you. And shit, you’d think you’d know if you hated you, right, ain’t that a fuckin fact?

Your thinking cap ain’t doing it for you, so you decide to do the next best fuckin’ thing. 

You throw a huge motherfuckin tantrum. Just get those harsh fuckin feelings all outta your mind. You slam your bike horns against the walls, you scream into the vents, and you claw up the floor. Just throw a damn ragefit up all over and in the block.

Why is he so motherfucking silent? Just for once, you’d love to feel the pain of those eyes into yours. Him to look deeper and give you a motherfucking PURPOSE, something to DO on this damned meteor. And after you fully commit, after you do the deeds…

Then he shuts up?

Is he done with you, did you serve your glorious mirthful purpose? But if you did, then it fucking lied, because you saw that you weren’t done. You SAW the end, and it was great, and it was definitely you. So---

“Attention y’all fuckers,” a voice reverberates through the vents, “we’re heading to dream land real soon so grab Toto because we’re not gonna be in Kansas much longer.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, but hope you enjoy!


End file.
